


The Endurance of Sovereignty

by kyaticlikestea



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works, The Hollow Crown (2012)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Death, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Iambic Pentameter, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Poetry, Romantic Friendship, Shakespeare, old english
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaticlikestea/pseuds/kyaticlikestea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>KING RICHARD II</b>
</p><p>Tell me lies; I beseech this of thee<br/>to tell me treason hath befallen me<br/>and truths are spared, as Bushy’s life was spared<br/>and Bushy yet may still return to me!</p><p>
  <b>SIR STEPHEN SCROOP</b>
</p><p>As sov’reign liege, I cannot tell thee lies<br/>though ‘tis with sadness that I must refuse<br/>for doing so sham’st tender lips like mine<br/>which seldom speak a word with cause to bruise.</p><p>
  <b>KING RICHARD II</b>
</p><p>Then be it true? ‘Tis so, that Bushy lies<br/>a traitor in the eyes of Bolingbroke<br/>and angel in the eyes of our fair Lord?</p><p> </p><p>An alternate reaction from Richard II to the death of Bushy in act 2 scene 3. Written in the style of the rest of the play in an attempt to practice my iambic pentameter verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Endurance of Sovereignty

**NARRATOR**

As history bears witness to this tale  
so too does hist’ry warn that it repeats,  
for Nisus and Euryalus have seen  
the fall of men like them, and Pylades  
and Orestes before have learnt the tales  
of Patroclus, Achilles and their fates  
entwined with those of Castor and Pollux.  
Could history speak freely with the tongues  
of all those men between its pages, bound  
by leather in immortal throes of death,  
then tales as these would not be told again  
from lips of men, unlined by sorrow’s age  
and anger’s years, and men with tender face  
would live to love as love’s design entails.  
But hist’ry’s burden is a silent voice,  
its witnesses resigned for evermore  
to watch themselves again in mirrored years  
that fall beyond their place in time and mind.  
It is with this resignèd treachery  
that history, with shackled hands, refrained  
from warning him – he of the hollow crown –  
that love’s design was empty as the throne.  
This tale begins, thrice told to men before,  
with king and man, by fellowship entwined  
and sired by Christ himself. Perhaps their fates  
were told before their births by sun and stars.  
Perhaps fate shielded fate’s own eyes  
and could not bear to see what would become  
of these two men, but one as king with crown.  
This is not for Pylades to tell.  
As men will love, so too will man destroy,  
as hate and envy fuel the lesser sins.  
It is these sins of which this tale shall speak,  
made greater in the presence of the two  
that cannot be redeemed by man alone  
though words of justice may be boldly spake;  
it is for God to judge, and only God,  
and though king is godly chosen, king is man.

These men, as Nisus and Euralys did,  
loved well and hated better, as did those  
who sought to steal what God bestowed upon  
the king with gilded, hollow crown, and so  
those other man did come to form a plan.  
The deadly sin of envy hath a voice  
that drowns the cries of better, lesser men,  
and thus this sin did call to arms the six  
that crushed the arms that made these men embrace.  
If envy be the deadliest of sins,  
then greed be second, standing hand in hand  
with lust; perhaps these sins found guilt  
in king and man. Perhaps they saw  
a crime that bettered envy’s better half,  
but reason is a fool’s game. Love is war,  
and it is war that breaks the bonds of men.

This king, an outcast in the land he rules,  
now stands alone. His friend, who spoke so well  
of loyalty hath fallen to the hands  
of men who speak well only of betrayal.  
The tale begins – unless it has begun -  
with treachery and loyalty entwined,  
with truth that lies with untruth and with lies  
and this is where the king hath found himself.

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

I bring thee news, my liege, of Bolingbroke  
and deeds that Bolingbroke hath called to be.

**KING RICHARD II**

Speak not with fear, my friend; we are alone!  
Though loneliness I wouldst not choose to make,  
I fear that company would chide my tongue  
and force my speech to be less freely spake.

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

I warn thee, sire, that of what I must speak  
is not for ears that bleed at cutting words.

**KING RICHARD II**

Hear I not the cries of angry men  
more often than the thanks of those in need?  
Again, I would beseech of thee to speak  
and tell me plain of Bolingbroke’s done deeds.

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

Very well, my liege. Of this I speak;  
it is the choices made by Green and Bushy,  
for ‘though their loyalty endured thy leave,  
they rest now at the feet of Bolingbroke.

**KING RICHARD II**

The feet of Bolingbroke? They rest as dogs,  
defeated by the promises of man  
to give them coin and plate should they obey?  
Of Green, I can accept, but Bushy’s fate?  
If he must stoop to treachery to feel  
the weighted crown upon his mortal own  
then let him share the crown with Bolingbroke!  
I have no need for traitors in my midst  
when fear would still the tongues of honest men,  
those men of mine who loyal still remain:  
if truthful men be you, then what are lies?  
Are they such things as fell from Bushy’s tongue  
when he did say that by my side he would  
remain, despite the ever-fading thought  
that we would stand upon this Earth as men -  
not merely men, but men with kingly ire,  
a righteous fury on those other men  
who stand by Bolingbroke as less than men -  
not men, but mice who scurry in the night  
and from the sun’s fair rays do hide and plot?  
If traitor be his name, then let him go!  
For I shall call him nothing be it so  
that Bushy’s loyalty has left along  
with Bushy’s heart and body by my side.

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

It is not rage that slows my speech, my liege,  
but weariness and grief to say these words  
that burn my lips as fall they to the ground  
and burrow in the earth beneath your feet.  
For Bushy is no traitor, sire, and yet  
‘tis true that peace was made with Bolingbroke  
in Bushy’s name, although that peace be made  
in fragile bonds with broken tongues that speak  
no more. His treachery, my liege, is not  
that he has let his loyalty be quelled.  
Indeed, his loyalty has stilled his tongue  
as you have seen it still the tongues of men  
who still remain to watch thee wear the crown.  
Speak not of treachery, my liege; instead  
speak blackened words of mourning. Bruise thy tongue  
with grief, for Bushy lies with you yet still,  
although he sleeps more deeply than before.  
If I could offer words of comfort, sire,  
and still be called by God an honest man  
then I would tell thee now that Bushy lives.

**KING RICHARD II**

Thou wretched man! Thou seekst me to wound  
with words as these! O, cruelty! Your tongue  
is laced with poison! Words of hate  
and malice fall from lips I had thought loyal!  
Thy treachery is worse than Bolingbroke’s  
for he hath told from wherefore treach’ry came,  
but thou hast told me nothing of the sort  
and loyalty came easily before!  
Seekst thou to kill the hope of thy own sov’reign?  
Is not that Bolingbroke returns enough  
to grant thy wish of sorrow and despair?  
Will not the treachery of him suffice?  
It seems to me as though thy wish is clear;  
that Richard is no longer king, but man,  
for man alone can mourn what death shall bring,  
and death alone can make a man of kings!

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

My liege, I mean’st not to thee offend;  
I merely seek to offer thee the truth,  
that Bushy has been slain by Bolingbroke,  
his good name tarnished with words from false tongues.  
They call him traitor, sire! As traitors do,  
they see his lack of treachery as treason,  
their own crimes mirrored in his blameless eyes,  
and for this, he is slain and called a coward.

**KING RICHARD II**

The fiends! The villains! O, were this treachery  
from you, my friend, I could look upon it  
with open eyes and judgment fair, but this  
is to be looked upon with sleeping eyes  
less I should see what should remain unseen.  
Why dost thou not lie to me? O, please  
I beg of you this deed, and kings beg not  
on bended knees for men with fickle tales!  
Tell me lies; I beseech this of thee  
to tell me treason hath befallen me  
and truths are spared, as Bushy’s life was spared  
and Bushy yet may still return to me!

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

As sov’reign liege, I cannot tell thee lies  
though ‘tis with sadness that I must refuse  
for doing so sham’st tender lips like mine  
which seldom speak a word with cause to bruise.

**KING RICHARD II**

Then be it true? ‘Tis so, that Bushy lies  
a traitor in the eyes of Bolingbroke  
and angel in the eyes of our fair Lord?

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

‘Tis so, my liege, though pains’t me it to say.

**KING RICHARD II**

Then who is king? Who wears this hollow crown  
if I am now to grieve the loss of him?

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

Thou art still king. The rebels do gain force  
but still the throne and crown belong to thee.

**KING RICHARD II**

For weeks? For days? Alas, I am not king.  
Let Bolingbroke assume his wrongful place,  
for Richard hath been wounded far beyond  
how kings can bleed, and I am but a man.  
The crown is lost; there is no throne to take  
for Bolingbroke hath taken what is mine,  
and all I have is Bolingbroke’s to take.  
There is no need to weep. Thine eyes must dry,  
for tears will come to nothing in the end.  
All Earth is salted with the tears of man,  
and yet in Earth still better men than I  
are fated there to slumber when they die.  
Thy tears will do no good. They are as stars  
in bleak expanse of night, heavy with cloud,  
and serve no purpose but to show the king  
that kings are men, and Heav’ns cannot be ruled.

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

Sire, I beseech of thee; thou must endure!  
This loss is cut to wound, to bruise, to bleed,  
and Bushy’s death must not have been in vain,  
which it shall be if this doth make thee flee.

**KING RICHARD II**

Thou thinkst me weak enough to let this lie?  
Oh, I shall fight, but as a man with cause  
and not as king with much to lose and gain.  
If Bolingbroke hath cause to think that I  
intend to flee, a broken man, then he  
hath shamed himself, and made fools of his men.  
For as a man with nothing more to lose,  
as I hath lost the one thing that remained  
in my possession, far from Bolingbroke,  
I do not lie and wait to lose my crown;  
the crown is lost, and that I shall mourn yet,  
but mourn I must the man that I have lost  
before I grieve the crown or mourn the throne.  
A man am I, as Bolingbroke desired,  
and yet a broken man I shall not be  
for Bushy’s death hath broken free the chains  
of sov’reignty; now I shall live or die  
a man, as Bushy knew me then to be.  
This is not punishment. I shall not die  
a causeless man, nor live a causeless king,  
but die a man with heart and sov’reignty  
beyond the title that a crown canst give.  
In Bushy’s mem’ry, I shall live and die  
the man that Richard, King of England, killed  
upon the taking of the crown and throne  
when he was but a boy, and yet a man.

**SIR STEPHEN SCROOP**

I fear thy tongue is stilled by grief, my liege;  
I hear thy words but as though they were spake  
in foreign tongue. Thou sayst thou art a man,  
then were a king, and now will die a man?

**KING RICHARD II**

I say all men are men, and kings are kings  
made men by sickness of the sov’reignty  
and as a man, this loss hath stricken me  
and yet a man I lived and loved before;  
thus, history hath good cause to repeat.  
I shall not question God’s desire, for I  
hath been spared kingly fates. I am to die  
a man, with honour and with sov’reignty  
bestowed upon me not by God, but love,  
and sov’reignty of love shall salt this Earth,  
not tears of men shed for a lonely king,  
and make my grave eternal not a tomb  
but make a vessel of it for my bones  
as I am Heav’n bound with those I love,  
and there I shall see Bushy, loyal still,  
and therein shall regain my kingly crown.

**NARRATOR**

And here this tale begins – less it should end  
with love forlorn and scattered to the winds.  
If here we say the story hath been born  
then all that comes before is not in vain,  
and all that is to come shall come anew  
and be with righteous purpose, speak with truth  
that hist’ry gives the fallen and the damned,  
and love is always damned in hearts of men  
who love with false tomorrows in their words.  
If here the story starts, then let it lie  
in God’s own earth when, with the final word,  
the tale is told, and history reflects  
upon the sacrifices made by men  
so as to ensure that lessons learned  
are learned with reason, forgotten in vain,  
for history is doomed to tell a tale  
that shall be told when ears are deaf again  
and eyes are blind to all that comes before.  
If here the story starts, then should it end  
before the final word hath made anew  
the lives and happiness of men, then let  
this tale be told again until it ends  
with words of love that speak of loyal hearts.  
Until that word, ‘tis here this story starts. 

**Author's Note:**

> And there we go. 2 hours, 260 lines of strictly metered poetry. I'm not expecting a great deal of - indeed any amount of - interest in this, but it's something I'm proud of myself for achieving.
> 
> I should probably add at this point that I've finished a degree in English Literature so my knowledge of Shakespeare is not lacking, and from the age of 14 - 18 I wrote about 5 sonnets a week. I haven't written metered poetry in about 2 years now, so this is my attempt to see whether or not I still had the ability. This is why I chose to write something so obscure. I'm not just a random person who sat down and decided it would be fun (although it really, really was).


End file.
